Paper Cuts
by blueirony
Summary: Sometimes, the smallest of pains hurt the most. Ron/Hermione


A/N: I will never really know where this story came from. Part of it may be that I have never really been sold on the Ron/Hermione pairing (apologies to anyone who adores them). I liked exploring a different side to their relationship, one that I don't see written much about.

**Paper Cuts**

_"Words can make a deeper scar than silence can heal." – Author Unknown_

Throwing his bag on the ground and ignoring the loud clunk it made when it hit the floor, Ron collapsed onto the couch and tried to relax for the first time since he had left his home at the abominably early hour of five thirty that morning. He closed his eyes and burrowed into the softness of the couch cushions. One hand resting wearily resting on his stomach, the other crept up to his neck and wrestled with his tie. The tie had felt like a noose all day and all he could think about was taking the wretched thing off and letting a hot shower ease his sore muscles. He might have gone overboard in his evening training session but every punch and every twirl of his wand had been a release of the stress that had steadily been building him in the past several months.

He struggled with his tie for a few moments and let out a grunt of frustration when it refused to come loose. He usually had no problems with muggles, but Merlin forbid the day his boss had decided to integrate as much of the Auror department with the way the bobbies downtown did it. Starting with elements of their dress. Honestly, what was wrong with wizarding robes?

"Ron?" A soft voice cut through the darkening living room.

"Bleeding... _what_?" Ron snapped, as he yanked one more time and the tie finally gave way. He looked up into the disappointed eyes of his wife and let out a sigh. He hadn't meant to snap at Hermione but he had been on edge all day ever since his boss had told him that the report he had spent the last week meticulously preparing was now useless after one of their key witnesses had walked.

Hermione's eyes hardened at his tone.

"You're late," she stated, crossing her arms. Her voice was calm but Ron could sense the underlying anger in it. "It's half eleven," she continued. "Is it so much to ask my husband to come home at a reasonable time?"

A muscle in Ron's jaw twitched as he listened to his wife's voice slowly getting louder. His hands clenched around the edge of the couch cushions as he forced himself not to snap at her again.

"Can't you just... Ron? Are you even listening to me?" she asked, exasperated. "Ron?"

Ron gritted his teeth and forced himself to not retaliate. Hermione's hormones had been all over the place lately and, while he knew not to succumb to the urge of screaming himself hoarse at a time like this, it took every ounce of willpower that he had to tell his wife that, no, he had not been listening because he had just come home from a long day, his boss was an idiot, he was averaging four hours of sleep a night, he was very quickly reaching the limit of his patience and could she please shut the bloody help up because all he wanted to do was close his eyes and sleep for the next week.

Hermione stared at him for a second longer and rolled her eyes. Ron's hands involuntarily twitched at the movement as he silently hoped Hermione would pick up on his mood. Now was not the time to be starting this.

"I got an owl from the store today," said Hermione. "You didn't pick up the cot."

Hermione paused for a moment and when Ron didn't say anything, she let out a frustrated sigh and shifted her weight from her left foot to her right. Ron kept his gaze on his lap as he felt the blood pounding in his ears. He knew that the second he looked up at her, he would say something he would regret.

"How hard it is to take twenty minutes out of your day to do something for me? Honestly, you are so irresponsible," she said with a scowl.

Ron's head snapped up at these words. The words were on the tip of his tongue but this time he could not stop them. All he saw was red. He had been itching for a fight ever since his trainer had stared down at his crumpled form and told him to go home.

"Irresponsible, am I? Well, _Hermione_, in case you haven't noticed, I have been working _sixteen hour days_," said Ron. He knew he should stop but now that he had started, he could not stop.

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to balance everything?" he asked her, his voice raising with his frustration at her silence. Something snapped inside him and, before he could stop himself, he had started yelling.

"Well? Do you, Hermione?" he yelled. The stress of his day was too much and he was now channelling it at the one thing he did best: getting under Hermione's skin.

Hermione glared at him and a familiar fire ignited behind her eyes.

"Of _course_ I know how hard you've been working. Every day, all you do is come home and complain!" she yelled back at him.

"I wouldn't be complaining if you didn't tell me to do so many bloody things every day."

"Do I have a choice? Do you _think_ I would be asking you to do things if I knew you would act like this?"

"WELL THEN WHY DON'T YOU DO SOME OF THEM YOURSELF?"

"I WOULD IF I DIDN'T HAVE MY OWN JOB! BUT DO YOU SEE ME COMPLAINING? NO! ALL I ASKED WAS FOR YOU TO PICK UP A _COT_ AND BE HOME AT A DECENT TIME!"

Ron jumped up at this and stared her down. This was too much. How dare she imply that he was complaining too much on top of his own job? How dare she imply that she could handle her own job and he couldn't? If she only _knew_ what he had gone through in the past week alone.

"I'm sorry that I don't have time to pick up a bloody cot in the middle of one of my busiest days when I have done every _single_ bloody thing you have asked me to in the past seven months," Ron said, his voice now soft but still laced with anger. "But, in case you haven't noticed, I've been trying to provide for you and this baby, so don't you _dare_ tell me I'm not doing enough."

The words left his mouth and Ron instantly regretted them when he saw Hermione's eyes fill with tears. A tense moment passed as the two glared at each other before Hermione turned around and Ron's heart ached when her shoulders started to shake and her soft cries echoed through their small flat as she walked down the hallway to their bedroom.

Ron stared after her retreating figure in dismay. He hadn't meant to make her cry but, God if she didn't know how to grate on his nerves and the right buttons to push. The past few months had been hell for him. It seemed like everything he did was wrong. He never said the right things and any small thing he did wrong would set her off and the two would end up in one of their many fights. But these fights were different. They weren't the petulant squabbling of their Hogwarts years, they were something more. Something deeper. Fighting was nothing new to them but their fights lately had seemed like they meant more. These fights hurt. Ron was used to forgetting his small arguments with Hermione within hours but the two could now take days to forgive each other. Ron hated being at odds with his wife and coupling this with his added responsibility at work had him constantly on edge.

Hermione, too, had changed. He had been warned that her moods would change at the drop of a hat but, Merlin, he had never anticipated her like _this_. Where was the beautiful, confident, self-assured woman that he had fallen in love with? Ron was used to a Hermione who was filled with passion and drive. But Hermione lately acted more and more like a young, scared girl and Ron was at a loss as to what to do. He had no idea how to comfort her and it did not help that everything he said just made it worse.

But he couldn't stand seeing her like this. He felt so helpless. Every soft sob was like a knife through his heart and his feet moved forward before he knew what was happening. He walked down the hallway and placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder just before she reached their bedroom door. Gently, he turned her around. Ron gazed at her tear-stained face for a moment and was struck at how young and vulnerable she looked. The moment passed, a few stray tears slid down Hermione's cheeks and Ron couldn't stand it any longer.

He drew her close and wrapped his arms around her, relishing in the feel of her arms sliding around his back as she buried her face in his chest and her small body racked with sobs. Ron held her as tight as he dared, careful not to squash her large belly. Despite his earlier anger, he couldn't resist placing a kiss on the top of her head before pressing his cheek into her hair and closing his eyes. Things weren't, by any means, right for them. He knew they needed to talk but it could wait.

Here, standing in the hallway of their tiny flat, holding Hermione's warm body in his arms felt right.

And, so, for the first time in many weeks, Ron lost himself in the feel of his wife's arms around him and relaxed.

FIN


End file.
